Whatever Happened To Captain Jack?
by TheRangress
Summary: A mysterious shopkeeper scatters the Torchwood agents through Jack's timeline, claiming a threat from the Trickster. Unsure of what's even going on, the team learns quite a bit about Jack's past... and his future. (Technically a full Whoniverse crossover, set somewhere between the Martha episodes and Fragments.)
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

It was the beginning of a perfectly normal day at the Torchwood hub. There were the sounds of a loud pterodactyl, the coffeemaker, and Owen avoiding doing any work.

"Rift spike last night," Tosh observed. It seemed odd that Jack wouldn't have noticed it, living in the Hub and all. Then, given recent developments, maybe he'd been somewhere else last night.

"There was an alien in a shop. Twelve feet tall with red eyes. The shop belongs to a Mr. Smalley," Owen said, tossing a paper airplane at Gwen.

"How did you know that?" Tosh asked.

"It was in the paper," said Ianto, throwing out some spoiled milk.

"Should we go investigate, then?" asked Gwen.

"Exactly the plan," Jack said, having apparently overheard.

"And also, we should buy milk," said Ianto.

"Let's go, then."

The shop was a bit musty, as shops full of old things were. A pleasant sort of musty, reminiscent of your grandmother's attic. It was full of ferns and figurines and lamps and tailoring figures. A curly-haired woman held the door for Torchwood as she exited, casting an appreciative eye towards Jack.

"Hello?" Jack asked.

"Hello!" It was a red parrot on a perch, who moved from side to side taking in the group. "Hello!"

"Hello," Tosh said, as Owen rolled his eyes and picked up a ballerina figurine. It looked quite old, and the bottom said 'Made in China'.

"Doesn't really look like there was a twelve-foot alien in here," Gwen commented.

"It could have been in back," Ianto suggested.

"Could've."

Jack picked up a locket, silver with what looked to be a ruby or garnet in the center. He carefully pried it open, and smiled at the contents in the way people smiled when they were pleased about something that made them sad, or sad about something that made them happy. "Catherine."

"Who's Catherine?" asked Gwen. Ianto carefully peeked inside the locket. There was a short lock of dark hair and an old photograph of Jack and a woman. The hair might have been Jack's.

"My wife," he said, in the light way he always tread on his past, "But that was a long time ago." He closed it with an air of finality and put it down.

"Time is relative," came a voice. A man with a faded suit and red hat with tassel and embroidery walked into the room. "From some viewpoints, it's still happening.

"But not mine," Jack said firmly. "Mr. Smalley?"

The man nodded. "Everything has its end, as I'm sure you're aware, Captain Jack Harkness."

There was a moment of exchanged glances before Jack faced Mr. Smalley again, the Torchwood agents giving the air of a military formation. "How do you know my name?" Jack asked.

Mr. Smalley laughed. "I put that story in the paper and that Rift activity on your sensor to get the attention of the legendary Torchwood."

"Why?"

"I believe, Captain Harkness, that you have combated members of the Trickster's Brigade in the past?" The man— Jack was sure his name wasn't Smalley— tilted his head.

"In 1927," Jack said coolly.

"So you are familiar with the Trickster?"

"So are you."

The man smiled. "So I am. I will be requiring your assistance to prevent him from disturbing a fixed point in time." He said the last four words pointedly.

"Who's the Trickster?" Gwen asked.

"Part of the Pantheon of Discord. Changes the timeline to create as much chaos as possible," Jack said, not taking his eyes from the shopkeeper.

The parrot squawked. The shopkeeper smiled at it. "Ah, yes. I am wasting time."

"Assuming time can ever be gone," Jack said. Making philosophical comments on time? Two could play at that game.

"In any case, I require your assistance. There are five concurrent attacks on this point. I am unable to travel through time and hold them off, but you— " He moved his hands like he was shaping clay into a ball and created a portal with edges like shards of glass. "—can."

"I can't go," Jack said, "I'd be crossing my own timeline."

The shopkeeper nodded respectfully. "Your own timeline, Captain, is under attack."

"What happens to Jack if we _don't _stop the Trickster?" Ianto asked cautiously.

"The entire history of the universe will fall into itself. Gilgamesh will coexist with Elizabeth the Second on a spaceship."

"Sounds like the premise of a good novel," Tosh commented.

"Unfortunately, this novel will end with the sheer entropy caused by this used by the Trickster to turn the universe into eternal chaos."

"And who are you?" Jack asked.

The man smiled. "A servant of the universe."

"They aren't going anywhere unless you tell us who you are."

"Who said you had a choice in the matter?" The man grinned broadly and snapped his fingers.

The portal enveloped the other four Torchwood agents.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

"Where are they?" Jack snarled, his handgun out in a flash.

The shopkeeper continued to smile. "The question isn't where, Captain, but when."

"Bring them _back_." Jack was motionless, watching the shopkeeper intensely. Something was very wrong with that man, and he used 'man' quite loosely.

"And doom the universe to eternal chaos?"

"How do I even know I can trust you?"

"You don't!"

"Give me one good reason not to shoot you."

"You don't know how to bring them back." That was, Jack reflected, a very good reason. "Allow the Captain and I to explain." The Parrot squawked, and Jack decided he might as well. He kept the gun ready, though.

"Shit," said Toshiko Sato.

She looked from the other women in the streets to herself, from their bustles and corsets to her jeans. She ducked into an alley to consider. She was alone in the Victorian era, either sent there to die or to find Jack Harkness.

In any case, she needed a plan. A way to find Jack, of course, but first she'd need clothes. Probably stolen.

"Not like a little theft is below me," she told herself, half-smiling. Looking around, she was alone in the alley. Good. So. Find someone's laundry. And if anyone saw her, well, she'd steal their clothes! "You read too many novels," she informed herself.

There was a very familiar smell. Tosh slowly turned to see what it was. Right behind her, a Weevil.

"Shit," she repeated. She backed away, because at the very least the Victorians were safer than the Weevil. After all, she could probably convince the Victorians she was harmless— just pretend she spoke bad English, and this was Japanese fashion. She cringed at the idea, but she strongly suspected women in pants were illegal here and now.

Tosh looked to the street and saw two women stepping in sync, one dark-haired and sour-faced, one blond with a flower on her hat. Their pistols were— well, definitely not Victorian.

"Out of the way." The blond pushed Tosh aside so the sour-faced woman could shoot the Weevil. Electricity arced through the air, and the Weevil fell to the ground.

"Who are you?" the blond asked Tosh.

Tosh paused in fright, and then settled on "Don't speak English" with a sheepish smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Anata no fuku wo toremasu." Well, if she figured out a way to disable them. She needed clothes.

The woman showed no sign of recognition. "Do you know what that is?" She pointed to the Weevil. Torchwood? Were these people Torchwood?

"Jack Harkness?" Tosh asked excitedly.

Still no recognition. "I think she's just a woman, Alice."

"She is dressed funny, though." The sour-faced woman pushed the Weevil back into the gutter. "Can that really be the fashion in the Orient?"

"Iie, fyuuchaa de hayari desu." Tosh said. Well, they couldn't understand her, so why not say what she pleased?

"True. And it does seem suspicious she'd be dressed so… suspiciously."

"Rift?"

"Most likely."

Without a word, Alice grabbed Tosh and started dragging her.

"Kore wa ii ja arimasen."

Gwen Cooper found herself in the middle of a dirt road.

"Jack?" she called. It was lightly raining, a pale sort of gray day, and the road beneath her was slowly turning to mud. "Owen? Tosh? Ianto?"

Gwen sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she was alone. And a bit wet.

"Excuse me!" came a voice. Gwen turned to see what looked remarkably like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang coming along the road, the woman driving it waving her large Edwardian hat. "There's a very good chance I'm going to run you over, Miss! The brakes are broken."

Gwen dashed out of the road before the car ran over where she had been, and then came to a stop. The woman exited. She wore practical boots, bloomers, and a smart jacket. Her face was familiar.

"Do you need a lift?" the woman asked. As she stood up, Gwen noticed that the woman was wearing a locket with a garnet or ruby.

"Catherine!" she exclaimed.

"Why… yes. Mrs. Catherine Harkness." The woman nodded. "Have we met?"

"I'm a friend of your husband's. Or… I will be."

"You're a time-traveler!" Catherine looked Gwen up and down. "Trousers!"

"Yes, I am." Gwen offered her hand. "Gwen Cooper."

Catherine shook it firmly. "What are you doing here?"

"A mysterious shopkeeper sent me. Apparently there's a being called the Trickster trying to hurt him."

Catherine looked Gwen up and down. "Well. How about I take you home for tea and we get a plan of action?"

"Sounds good." Gwen looked at the vehicle, slightly suspicious of it. "And what's that, then?"

"Ah, Jack and I built it. His scientific knowledge and my resourcefulness, and, lo and behold, a horseless carriage!" Catherine stroked what could best be described as the prow. "We haven't quite hammered out the brakes."

"I gathered," Gwen said, eyes wide.

"Oh, don't worry. It's perfectly safe."

Reluctantly, Gwen climbed into Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

Ianto Jones was not entirely sure where he was. Or when.

"Not the past," he said to himself, looking at the very tall buildings he was surrounded by. "Future, probably. Always did want to see it." He idly wondered where he was and whether or not he was in a lot of danger.

Of course he was in danger. And a sign on the building next to him informed him that it was Chiswick. "Future. Definitely future."

A running figure barreled into him. Ianto grabbed the figure's arms, attempting not to fall on his bottom. The figure was a gangly teenager whose dress looked Greek and teeth were bared. Ianto shoved the teenager into the wall of Chiswick, but his attention was elsewhere.

A man in a scarlet cloak was staring at him. A man a bit older and wearing his hair differently, but not a man he could ever fail to recognize. And not when he was wearing an expression Ianto had seen only minutes before, when he was looking at Catherine's locket.

"Jack?"

"Ianto."

He let the kid go. She eyed them for a moment, then ran into Chiswick. Ianto stood there, attempting to figure out something to say.

"I miss the coat."

"It got old."

They just stood there until the door to Chiswick opened and a woman in a cloak matching Jack's dragged the teenager out. "You lost her." The woman stared for a moment while the teen struggled. "Dorian?"

"Something's… happened." Jack said. Ianto smiled awkwardly. "Let's start from the beginning… Liz, this is Ianto Jones. Ianto, this is Queen Elizabeth the Tenth."

"Your highness." Ianto bowed, figuring that was probably a safe thing to do when meeting a queen in the future. He eyed Jack. "_Dorian?_"

"Lost the name when I lost the coat. Seemed to fit." Jack shrugged.

"So, what's happened?" The Queen put her free hand on her hip, the teen sulking.

"I was sent to the future by a shopkeeper," Ianto said frankly.

"Oh, that?" Jack still looked exactly the same when he thought about the past. "The Trickster, then."

"Assuming the shopkeeper was telling the truth."

"Oh, he was." Jack nodded. "Which means… Of course."

"The Trickster?" the Queen asked.

"He's trying to mess with my timeline in order to cause chaos." Jack and the Queen exchanged significant glances.

"Oh, of _course_," she said.

"Of course what?" Ianto asked.

The Queen smiled. "He's going to try to stop our wedding."

Owen Harper found himself in a dark hallway.

A small redheaded girl ran past him, then skidded to a halt and turned. "Intruder!"

"A _real _intruder?" came a voice. Jack's voice.

"I'm not stupid," the girl said, shaking her head.

A man came around the corner and was Jack. Jack in a newsboy cap and a scruffy suit with no coat, though. Odd, that.

"An intruder," he said, pulling his gun out.

"We take him to Madame Kovarian?" the girl asked, approaching Jack's leg.

"Yep." Jack was wearing some kind of plastic eyepatch. Funny.

"I'm here to talk to you," said Owen, holding his hands up in an attempt to look nonthreatening.

"I'm listening." Jack gestured with his gun.

"There's an alien being called the Trickster about to mess with your timeline."

"What would the Trickster want with me?"

"Madame Kovarian. Now," the girl said, tugging at Jack's trouser leg.

"Later, sweetie," Jack said. He turned back to Owen, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"You're a fixed point in time," Owen said.

"_Me_?" Jack laughed. "Do you know anything about temporal mechanics? No chance I'm even _involved _with a fixed point. Come on." He picked the girl up with his free arm. "Let's go see Madame Kovarian."


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

It was definitely Torchwood. Victorian Torchwood, but Torchwood nonetheless.

They sat Tosh down in a chair and waved a device over her. It went 'ding'.

"Temporal. Not Rift, though," said Alice.

"Ocha wo onegaishimasu?" Tosh asked, figuring that if she wasn't going to scream she needed to keep her sense of humor. And, she was thirsty.

"Past or future?" The blond one folded her arms. "I doubt she's from the past."

"I'd say future too," Alice agreed, "Do you think we'll need an interpreter?"

"No. Look at her. She understands every word we're saying."

"No speak English good," Tosh said desperately.

"Get the translator, dear," the blond woman said, "I've been meaning to see if it works for Earth languages too."

Alice kissed the blond and went into the Archives. Emily pulled up a chair and sat across from Tosh, then idly called Tosh a few unspeakable things. Tosh struggled to keep a straight, slightly frightened face. The blond stared at her in a way that made Tosh burst into hysterical laughter.

"I'll make tea, then," the blond commented as Tosh giggled. Oh, stress laughter. She'd thought she'd been over that, once she'd become a hardened criminal and all.

She'd managed to get them under control by the time the blond returned with two cups of tea. "Emily," she said, pointing to herself.

"Toshiko. Anata ga suki ja arimasen." She smiled in the hopes that Emily would take it as the polite greeting it wasn't and sipped her tea. "Ah! Hot!"

Emily looked at Tosh. Tosh looked at Emily. Tosh looked at her tea. The tea did not look at Tosh.

"I know your English is better than you're letting on, Toshiko."

"No speak English. Anata wa akujo. Ocha ga ii ja arimasen." Tosh shrugged and threw her hands up exaggeratedly. "I go now?" Tosh was a bit disgusted by what she was doing here, but hopefully it would get her back to the 21st century safe and sound.

"No."

Tosh sipped the tea as Alice returned with a device she recognized. A translator all right. Owen had broken it.

"Here we are, darling."

"Ah, lovely. Now, Toshiko, where are you from?"

"Japan." Play it cool.

"Of course. When?"

"What— what sort of question is that?"

"Do I need to get the lie detector?" Alice asked. Tosh knew they had one, and a damn good one.

"Oh, fine. I'm a Torchwood agent from the year 2008 sent back in time by an enigmatic shopkeeper." Tosh put the tea down on Emily's desk. "And this tea is horrible."

"I _like _her," Alice said after a pause.

"Did we ever mention Torchwood?"

"Not once."

"It really wasn't hard to figure out at all." Tosh sighed and decided she was perfectly within her rights to stand up. "Now, if you'd lend me a dress, I'll go save a quarter of time and be out of your hair."

"A _quarter _of time?" asked Emily.

"I have three coworkers saving the rest of it."

Alice looked at Emily. Emily looked at Alice. Tosh looked at them. They looked at Tosh.

"You don't really believe this tosh?" Emily asked.

"Doesn't sound that far-fetched, does it?" Alice shrugged. "I don't trust her, but I'm willing to work with her."

"I'm right here."

"So, how exactly is time in danger?" Emily asked.

"A being called the Trickster is trying to affect the timeline of a man called Captain Jack Harkness. If certain things don't happen, all of time will collapse in on itself." Tosh paused. "That, or that shopkeeper was just evil. Captain Harkness is the head of Torchwood in my time… he's immortal."

"I see," Emily said, pulling out a flask that was probably of brandy.

"So, what's your plan?" Alice rubbed Emily's shoulder, for which Emily was clearly grateful.

"Try to find him." Tosh shrugged. "I have an idea where to ask."

"Where?" Alice asked.

Tosh tried to think of a few Victorian terms for what she meant. "The… bohemian community. I think you call them… earnest?" Jack himself had called that one a euphemism, but Alice and Emily didn't seem to get it. "Like Oscar Wilde?"

"Oh," said Alice, "he's one of those?"

"As long as by those you don't mean poets," Tosh said.

"And what does he look like?"

"Wears a big blue coat, tall… handsome." Tosh described Jack a bit more.

And then Alice led her into a cell and locked her in.

"We'll be back once we find him," she said, walking away.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

Gwen explained to Catherine what had happened over tea, then explained it all again to Jack once he returned, covered in blood.

The two lived on a rather large and majestic estate ("inherited from my uncle, maintenance is hell, Weeping Angels in the basement and once we were besieged by oh no these demonic brakes!"). The tea service was fine china and silver, although the rug, table, and sofa were rather cheap. The reasoning behind this became clear when Jack came in and got blood all over them.

"You washed your hands, dear?" Catherine asked, an impeccable lady.

"Of course I did." They smiled at each other. Gwen hurt to know that Jack— her Jack— had _lost _this. Catherine was long dead and buried, this house— she wondered if he still owned it, still visited. She handed him a cup of tea and a scone.

"So, Gwen Cooper— if your shopkeeper was telling the truth, something important to my timeline's coming up soon."

"Yep." She bit a scone contemplatively.

"I assume it wouldn't just be normal world-saving?" Catherine stood to pace. "Could be anything."

"It could be a particular world-saving," Jack said.

"So we've got to make sure something happens, but we don't know what and could accidentally stop it instead?" Gwen asked.

"This is a bit of a predicament," Catherine agreed. She paced frantically, gesturing wildly. "The brakes!"

"The brakes?" Jack asked.

"Maybe he broke the brakes."

"Well, we need to fix them anyway," Gwen said, not eager to die in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

"I've got just the thing, anyway." Catherine nodded. "I'll fix them before dinner, in case the house catches fire." She looked at Gwen, taking one more step and then standing still. "I forgot to inform Lavinia we have company." She said it with dread in her voice.

"Is there something you forgot to tell me?" Jack asked.

"Well, you know Lavinia isn't fond of me…"

"She's going to quit when she finds out, isn't she?"

Catherine stood still as a deer in the headlights. "How many will that make?" she asked with a nervous grin.

"I don't think we really need a cook. I'll make dinner." Jack shook his head. "Now, if it was the _maid_…"

"We couldn't do without a maid, not in a place this big," she agreed, "Fortunately, Violet says she'd only ever want to work in the most dangerous estate in Britain."

"Not the _most_," said Jack.

"I was too afraid to correct her. She might quit if you do." Catherine laughed. "In any case, should I go fire Lavinia before she quits?"

"Might as well," Jack said.

"Lovely. I'll go ask Violet to prepare the guest room, too."

"Oh, I'll help," said Gwen, standing up.

"Violet abhors being helped by anyone at all," said Catherine, "They don't do things properly, and so she gets quite snappish, which she doesn't like at all. No, you and Jack try to figure out temporal things and I'll handle the mundane." She stuffed a scone in her mouth and swept out.

There was a moment of silence.

"2008, you said?" Jack asked.

"I don't think I can tell you anything about the future." Gwen sipped her tea. "I'm pretty sure that breaks something… timey-wimey."

"I'm a time-traveler. Twenty-first century. Everything changes."

"You've said." Gwen grinned. Then, thinking, she frowned. "Wait… if you've met me now, did you only hire me because you knew I'd be a Torchwood agent?"

"Don't try to figure it out." Jack laughed. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I know I wouldn't hire you if you didn't impress me."

"Because if I fail, time collapses."

"Well, yes." He shrugged and ate a biscuit. "In which case, you have impressed me in the future."

Gwen smiled and watched Jack for a few seconds. "You're so much _younger_ than my Jack."

"You are from the future," he said lightly.

"Not just that. Your eyes. There's less pain in them."

Jack looked at the doorway. "I haven't lost her yet," he said quietly, "that's what you're seeing. And when I do, I don't know how I'm going to love anyone again."

"You will." She smiled a bit, to make him feel better. "And I can't see you stopping."

He looked at her for a second, then returned her smile. "Well," he said, "let's save time."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

The Queen of England's sitting room turned out to have a sofa and table in it that were, while not exactly of a recognizable design, quite recognizable as a sofa and table.

"Be careful, this is centuries old," she said, sitting the gangly teen down in a metal chair. The girl was pale and dark-haired, and would probably be considered Chinese in the twenty-first century. "Now, will you give me my crown back?"

Jack and Ianto sat quietly on a paisley sofa as far from Queen Liz and the girl as possible.

"You're marrying the Queen of England."

"Yeah."

"You're going to be the King of England?"

"I can't believe it either."

Ianto blinked at Jack. He was avoiding eye contact, looking off into the distance. When Jack looked like that, he was looking at the past. And… of course. Ianto softly put his hand on Jack's shoulder.

"You all right?"

"Yes." He smiled. "I'd almost forgotten this was going to happen."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He laughed a little. "Being dead."

It was the wrong thing to say. He could _see _Jack's heart breaking a little. Because he was dead. He was there, but he was dead, and soon he'd go and he'd be dead all over again.

"What did you want my crown for?"

"The Angel told me." The girl lifted her chin. "And you're not gonna stop me!"

"Oh, of course," Jack said, pulling away from what was turning into a very emotional moment, "She's part of this."

"What?" asked Queen Liz.

"This happened to Sarah Jane Smith twice— once at her wedding too, actually. Only in her case it was the groom. The Trickster brings someone back to life so that they can change things."

"I'm not dead." The girl seemed to shrink. "The Angel saved me."

"What's your name?" He asked it so paternally. Ianto wondered if he'd ever been a father. He'd never said, but there were clues here and there. Jack being Jack, it was more likely than not, but that didn't mean he'd ever _raised _a child.

"Ella. Ella Keranis."

Jack knelt down in front of her. "Ella Keranis, do you know what's happening here?"

"The Angel's gonna kill me if the queen marries you," she said, pulling away.

"Do you know what a fixed point in time is?"

"You mess with one, the universe comes apart," she said.

"That wedding is a fixed point in time. It's up to _you _what happens to the universe."

"I dun' wanna die."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Everyone dies in the end. Not everyone gets a chance to save the universe."

"What use's a universe if I'm dead?"

"What, you don't have any friends?" asked the Queen.

"Nope." She was skittish, eying the room. Ianto suspected she was going to bolt and prepared. "M'own skin's what matters, and I ain't gonna give it up for some royals what never went hungry in their lives."

From Jack's face, he had, but that was when Ella bolted. It was mostly one motion— Ianto standing to block her, her thrusting a knife into his ribcage, the Queen jumping over the centuries-old table, Ella jumping out the window (shattering it), the Queen jumping after her.

"Ianto!"

Ianto found the fact that he had been stabbed inexplicably confusing. "…I got stabbed."

"Yes." Jack rummaged through a cabinet and found something technological. He knelt beside Ianto, unbuttoned his shirt, and put the technological something over the stab wound. It certainly hurt less, and felt less like he'd been stabbed.

"Better?"

"Yes. Definitely." He sat up and touched the wound with his fingers. It was a bit sore, but mostly healed. "Very Star Trek. Should we go..?"

"Nah. Liz'll get her." Jack awkwardly avoided eye contact, watching the shattered window. His eyes, the way he held himself— he was older. "I've had centuries to wonder what I'd say when I saw you again, and none of it seems right with you here."

"I think I already know, Jack."

"_I _didn't, not until—"

"I died." He looked at Jack, just looked at him. "Haven't got that long left, have I?"

"Torchwood agents don't die of old age," Jack said slowly, still not looking at Ianto.

"Still had you."

Jack finally faced Ianto. "I took everything from you, Ianto. And I'm sorry."

"You're worth it, Jack."

"Not you."

"You said this was the twenty-ninth century? I've been hurting you for nearly a thousand years. I'm the one who's not worth it."

Somehow— neither of them was sure which started it— they kissed. And when they pulled away, Jack had tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't."


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Owen Harper sat in a cell, feeling like he'd forgotten something. He'd tried to convince this weird Jack that he was in danger, but no dice.

He heard soft footsteps and a door opening with a small grunt of effort. He turned to see the little girl padding up to him.

"Hello," she said, with a polite nod. How old was she, two, three?

"Hello," he said.

"Why you here?" She sat down on the floor, making a face at him. She had absolutely no clue what to make of this new person in her life.

"To be honest, I don't know myself."

"Ah." She clearly didn't know what to make of that either. "Melody Pond, pleased to meet 'cha."

"Owen Harper." He sat down across from her. "Do you know where we are, Melody?"

"Jefferson Hamilton Adams," she said promptly.

Owen looked off into the distance, made a face of horror, and then looked back at Melody. "Jefferson Hamilton Adams?"

"That's what the sign outside says." Melody nodded gravely. She frowned and bit her lip. "You said som'in' bad was gonna happen to Uncle Tracey."

"Was that man with you your Uncle Tracey?"

She nodded with a grin. "He the best ever! He play with me an' worry when I hurt myself an' listen when I scared an' teach me about time an' an'… he the best."

"I see."

"So you say some'in' bad was gonna happen him, well, I list'nin'." She nodded gravely.

"I'm not sure you can do anything…"

"We need a plan!" Melody nodded enthusiastically. "I," she said, incredibly pleased with herself, "_know _when time's gone funny."

"You do," Owen said flatly.

"I'm a Time Lord," she said, with the look of pure sarcasm only a toddler could manage.

"Oh, really." He didn't have any clue what that meant, but it sounded very pompous.

"Mhm-hmm. So. I be on the lookout for weird stuff."

"You do that."

"I go now. You no tell Madame Kovarian or Uncle Tracey I talk to you."

"Goodbye, then."

Melody Pond saluted him and walked out.

_You should kill us all on sight_.

Owen Harper was a zombie, and hadn't even been much of a fighter when he was alive. But in the hour since he'd arrived at Jefferson Hamilton Adams, he had racked up an impressive body count.

In the hall and cell were bodies draped in odd places, necks twisted out of shape. Owen noticed, of course. But he forgot. The slight electric charge in the air was excessively suspicious, but whenever he remembered why it was there— he looked away.

He forgot. He kept forgetting. And when he saw another, every so often— well. _You should kill us all on sight_. He didn't know why, and when he saw the corpses he'd have breathed difficultly if he breathed.

Eventually, he sat down to look at the note scratched on his arm.

'Don't look away'.

He didn't. And if he'd had stomach contents, he'd have vomited.


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter Seven_

Escape was difficult, but Alice and Emily were gone long enough that, with the help of a dismantled cell phone and her shoe, Tosh managed to escape. She didn't think this would gain her much trust, but Toshiko Sato did not sit around in cells. Not anymore.

No computer system, but they did have monitoring devices. She recognized a few of them and investigated. Nothing too suspicious besides herself, though she didn't know what she expected. She absently considered trying to go back to where the shop was, but she doubted that would help. It would probably be best if she just locked herself back in and waited.

Before she did, though— her heart was pounding like she was eight again, on her first midnight raid for cookies— she peeked through this Hub. With an odd sense of deja vu, she discovered some dresses hanging in a closet— belonging to both Alice and Emily. And while it wouldn't be perfect, Emily's would probably fit her.

Just like that long-off midnight snack, she was back in her prison just in time. Her pulse was racing in anxiety, and she felt like Alice and Emily had to catch it, or maybe a cat-that-got-the-canary grin stealing its way onto her face.

"Alice!" Emily smacked Alice with her glove and giggled.

"I'm only saying," Alice said, a loving grin on her face.

"Do you know what you are?"

"Incredibly beautiful and intelligent?"

"_Unladylike_."

"I suppose I'm that too." Alice laughed. "Although, if I am unladylike, I do have a few choice anecdotes about _you_…"

"Not in front of the prisoner." Emily was firm, then melted into a smile. She stood on her toes to kiss Alice, and then walked over to Tosh. "No sign of any Jack Harkness."

"I was sure he'd have snogged someone, at least," Tosh said. Her pulse was picking up again…

"Oh, were you?" Emily cocked his head. "We're sure she's human, Alice?"

"Sure as possible," Alice said.

"Look, maybe— I haven't got any more clue what's going on here than you do!"

"Really?" Emily's smile was foreboding. Tosh pressed herself into the back of the cell, trying to be as small as possible.

"I don't— you have to— please!" Tosh stared at Emily. "Oh, _shit_."

That morning, the envelope on her desk— 'You'll know when to open this'. She'd brushed it off, she'd been tired the night before, but. She pulled it out of her coat pocket and pushed it at Emily. "This could be important."

Emily slowly opened it. She frowned. "My handwriting. Yours too."

Alice looked over Emily's shoulder. "Codes, too. We wrote this."

"But I don't remember…"

"It says not to try to understand."

"But."

"It says you're going to drive yourself cross-eyed."

"Well, I will now."

"Do you believe me now?" asked Tosh.

"I suppose I have to," Emily said, "After all, I'm telling me too, and there's no one I trust more than myself."

"You wound me, madam," Alice said, looking away dramatically.

Tosh opened the door. "Good."

"You escaped?" asked Emily.

"Had to powder my nose." She took the letter from Emily and found a selection in her own handwriting. "I'm going to New York."


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter Eight_

While Jack was at Torchwood, Catherine and Gwen remained at the Evans Estate.

Gwen made breakfast, because Violet— who was lean, dark, and quite laconic— said she wasn't being paid to cook. Catherine tried her best to learn, but the way she had of flitting around didn't lend itself to a kitchen. Gwen managed to acclimatize herself to the old-fashioned appliances, and breakfast was certainly passable.

"Now, Miss Cooper, come along!" Catherine headed down the hallway cheerfully.

"Gwen, please," said Gwen.

"The future is certainly less decorous, Gwen." Catherine twirled a bit as she went— poking her head in doors and turning toward Gwen.

"It is," Gwen agreed.

Catherine frowned as she poked her head in another room. "Violet, did you move my inventions?"

"They were in the spare bedroom where Miss Cooper slept," Violet said from in the room. "I put them in the other spare bedroom."

"Which one?" Catherine lowered her face and raised her eyebrows.

"The one across the hall."

"Oh. Thank you!" She took Gwen's hand and took her into the spare bedroom across the hall.

The room was filled with… well, junk. Catherine flitted from piece to piece and explained that this was a planetarium, this was a refrigerator, that was a transmitter, this was a device for capturing Weeping Angels.

"Have you ever fought a Weeping Angel, Gwen?" Catherine asked, checking the mirror-lined interior of that device, mumbling something about luck.

"Can't say I have." She looked around. "Isn't all of this… junk?"

"It was. Now it's inventions. Most of them were for Torchwood. I'm sort of an unofficial worker, really."

Gwen smiled, picking up the planetarium. "Bit like my husband, then."

"Am I?" Catherine turned. "In any case, a Weeping Angel looks like a statue of an angel. It can only move when no one's looking at at it. And I figured, well, if they bury their heads in their hands like this—" Catherine put it down and demonstrated. "— which is what they call them 'Weeping' for— well, then they can _see_! So, mirrors."

"Clever." Gwen put the planetarium down. "How'd you meet Jack then?"

Catherine laughed and hid behind a piece of junk. "I shot him!"

"You _what_?" Gwen sniggered.

"Well, it was in the middle of an alien attack, you see." Catherine giggled. "I was very fed up with the situation, so I made up my mind to start shooting… and then he came to rescue me."

"And you thought he was an alien."

"No. I missed." She ducked behind more junk, giggling. "It was all horribly upsetting at the time."

"Those are the funniest things," Gwen agreed.

"What's the future like?" It seemed to be a very random question, until Gwen realized that Catherine was hiding behind a clock.

"I don't think I'm allowed to tell you that."

"Oh, not the big things. How tall do the buildings get?"

"A hundred stories." Gwen smiled at the childlike awe on Catherine's face. "Maybe more. I don't know."

"What about flying machines?"

"Oh, they're enormous. And fast. Some of them go faster than sound."

"Have you ever been in one?"

"Yes."

"What's it like?"

"Oh, it's… crowded and noisy, but when you look down at the dollhouse sized world or the clouds…" Gwen sighed. "It's pretty magical."

"A dollhouse sized world…" Catherine sighed. "I shall have to invent one."

"I'm sure you will!"

They talked on for a bit, coming to no conclusions on what to do about Jack and the Trickster or how to get Gwen back to her own time. Gwen told Catherine about television and the Internet, and Catherine told Gwen how she'd fallen in love with Jack when he'd taken her on a picnic under the stars and told her which he was from ("sometimes he called himself my alien, and it turned out he was!"). And while at the end of the day they were still just as clueless as to what was going on, well, they had things they could giggle about and confuse Jack, and that was certainly worth something.

* * *

**(A/N: If anyone's interested, I might write a series of scenes in Jack and Catherine's relationship, including the ones outlined here!)**


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter Nine_

Liz reacted surprisingly well to returning to find her fiancee sitting next to an old lover whose shirt was unbuttoned. She sat down next to them, cursing that girl.

"You all right?" Jack asked, moving one hand to her shoulder and keeping the other on Ianto's leg. She leaned against him with a sigh.

"She _lost _me. Nobody loses me!"

"Well, she does have the help of a godlike being," Ianto pointed out.

"I _am _a godlike being." She snorted. "So, she's trying to stop the wedding…"

"Which is probably meant to make sure Jack never ascends to the throne." Ianto paused. "Which does seem like a rather good idea."

"Ianto!"

"No offense, sir."

Jack sulked a bit as Liz continued. "Of course, sabotage really wouldn't work, we'd go on getting married anyway."

"Well, I know what I'd do," said Ianto.

"What would you do?" Liz stood up to pace a bit.

"Kill you." He caught half a smile from Jack. "If my life was on the line."

"Oh, don't worry, I'd probably kill me too." She picked up the crown retrieved from Ella and examined it. "A god has a death warrant on me," she said with the air of a quotation, "but I am the queen of England."

"And you have me," Jack pointed out.

"I've got you." She smiled. "So, we have to keep me alive until we're married… let's move it up, then."

"Today?"

"Right now." Liz nodded. "We need two witnesses and an officiator… You. Jones."

"Yes?"

"You're a knight. There, now we just need another witness." She tapped him on the shoulder twice. Jack's eyebrows raised.

This was not particularly how Ianto had ever expected to marry Jack (not that he expected to marry Jack, mind, though the thought had crossed his mind), but he decided to go along with it. "I assume 'dearly beloved' will work?"

"A bit old-fashioned, but fine," said Liz.

"I'll get witnesses." Jack stood and looked out the window. "Anyone will do?"

"Anyone." As Jack headed for the door, Liz stopped him. "One moment," she said, and pulled him into a kiss.

Ianto had thought he'd be jealous. After all, that was Jack. His Jack. But… well, his life had gone on, and he was happy. Jack would go on. Jack would be all right. Jack would be the king of England, which was not the most comforting of thoughts, but Jack would be _Jack_, and Jack would go on living and loving.

The doors slammed shut, the lights went off, and a very unpleasant sound started.

"Lockdown." Liz swore and kicked the door. "She managed to put the damn palace in lockdown."

"You're the Queen. Can't you override it?" Ianto asked sensibly.

"Not from here." Liz pulled a blaster from a hip holster and pointed it at the door, charging it. "Besides, I think we're safer in here. She'll be coming after me, yes? So, if we can get her properly secured, then we can get the wedding over with."

"I can't die."

"Yes, Jack, we know."

Jack pointed to the window. "You two go. I'll handle Ella."

"Dorian."

"Liz."

Ianto and Jack exchanged the briefest of glances. "I'm sorry, your Majesty." Ianto promptly pulled the Queen of England out the window.

They both landed on an innocent civilian with a loud thump. There was a moment where nobody spoke, only groaned.

"Did you just _knight _me?" "I'm going to kill you for that!" "You!"

Liz and Ianto stood and looked at the figure who'd cushioned their fall. It was a woman with curly hair, seemingly in only mild shock considering that the queen had just fallen on her.

"What's your name?" Liz asked.

"Professor River Song. Would you mind getting off me?"

"Are you willing to witness a wedding?" asked Ianto, moving off of the women. Liz stood and looked at the window in concern.

"Who's getting married?" Professor Song asked, standing.

"Me," said Liz, "Well, since I'm _locked out_, we might as well stay away from the palace until Ella's gone."

"Where do you think Jack would look for you?"

"Oh, I _know _where he'd look for me." Liz started on her way, leaving Ianto and Professor Song to follow.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Once again— this was getting to be a routine— Owen Harper was dragged in to see Madame Kovarian.

"Why are you killing my people?" she asked bluntly.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

Her face contorted, and one of the lackeys put a black piece of plastic in Owen's eye. "Now. What are you killing my people for?"

"Still no clue what you're talking about."

"Maybe the eyedrive isn't working because he's dead?" another lackey suggested after a pause.

"That's usually the answer," Owen agreed.

Madame Kovarian narrowed her eyes. "Have a corpse brought in the room."

"Ma'am?" asked the second lackey.

"You heard me." The lackey wilted under Madame Kovarian's raised eyebrow and left the room, returning with a body in tow nearly twice her size. "Don't take your eyes off of that, Owen Harper."

It was grotesque, wearing a suit (Owen made a note to make fun of Ianto there, assuming he ever saw him again), gray like some cheap Roswell alien. And he remembered. He remembered killing them in the cell, and he wanted to retch. Because while Owen was definitely an ass, he was a doctor. He had no taste for death.

"I'll only ask you again this once. Why are you killing my people?" There was a sharp, bitter edge to Madame Kovarian's voice.

Owen paused to take in the snapped neck for a moment before he laughed, one sharp bark. "I don't even know."

"How do you not know?"

"I just don't! The first of… those I saw told me to kill them all on sight, and so here I am, a serial killer." He was a zombie who murdered aliens for no reason. Sometimes, even though he was in complete pain, he just had to laugh at his life.

"I don't believe you," she said, stepping towards him.

"I wouldn't blame you."

Madame Kovarian slapped him, and he felt it was wisest not to tell her that, being dead, he didn't really feel it. "I suggest you stop being flippant." Being Owen, he promptly did the most flippant thing he could think of. "Be careful. I don't require you to be intact."

There was a knock on the door. "Yes?" snapped Madame Kovarian.

"Time Agency's recalled me." It was the voice of Jack— or Tracy, then.

"I'll teach the child personally in your absence."

Owen stared at the dead thing. They chatted out a few details, and then Madame Kovarian grabbed Owen's jaw. "My people are dead because of you. And I want a reason."

"What do you want me to say? They were in my cell and I'm a naturally violent person?" He was desperate to vomit or at least look away. The longer he looked at it, the more he was reminded of his semi-life, his job, his own personal hell.

"I want you to tell me where you're from and what you're doing here."

"I already told you."

"Look away from the corpse, Owen Harper." Relieved, he did. "You're going back to your cell to think. But next time I see you, I want answers. I know you weren't sent here from 2008 Cardiff by an impolite shopkeeper, and you are going to tell me the truth."

He was resigned to death— proper death, probably painful but wasn't that how it was?— as he was manhandled back into his cell. Of course, that was when Melody Pond walked back in.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Alice and Emily had grudgingly gotten Tosh on the next boat to New York, and also lent her one of Emily's dresses. It didn't quite fit, and Tosh felt uncomfortable as she sat below decks, mostly from the sway of the boat and the corset. It wasn't supposed to sway that much, was it?

She quietly sat on the bed (apparently, nineteenth-century Torchwood agents had a lot more leeway in, say, getting good tickets on a transatlantic trip), checking herself. There was a flattened blob of metal with a weak perception filter stashed in her corset (Tosh was rather unhappy with the lack of pockets in Victorian fashion); an alien device beneath her glove similar to those pranks that shocked you when you shook hands, but on a larger scale; and something that looked suspiciously like a fob watch but wasn't. It turned back time for thirteen minutes precisely. She decided to take off the gloves so her hands could breathe. She wouldn't be in any danger until she was in New York anyway.

Tosh's suspicions were confirmed when there was a loud clap of thunder. A storm. She was promptly thrown into the wall as the boat nearly rocked over. Her chest crashed into her leg, shattering the bone. There was a horrible sound of timber breaking, shrieks, and a deafening yell of 'Get to the lifeboats!'. Breathing through the pain, Tosh reached for the watch in her pocket and pried it open.

It was calm. Tosh lay on the floor, trying to breathe. Her leg. Still broken. She pulled herself up by the bed and then, with a deep breath, headed for the door. Pain. Lots of pain. But she managed to get the door open, and thanked whatever powers that were that Sylvester Evans was in the hallway outside. He was eccentric, rich, and Welsh, with a tendency to complain about his sister. He was quite culturally insensitive, but at the very least he tried.

"Miss Sato! What on earth happened to you?"

"I need to get to the deck, Mr. Evans. It's urgent that I speak to the captain. Now." The perception filter was enough to convince him that of course she had a legitimate reason (she was mostly just saying whatever came to mind— she thought she had a semblance of a plan), and (ever the gentleman) he lifted her up to take her to the captain.

She arrived on the deck in style, Mr. Evans carrying her, and her leg hurting like hell. Captain James stood, dark hair mussed by the breeze and light rain.

"I'm just here to observe," she said, "Don't mind me! You can put me down now, Mr. Evans."

She got a few suspicious looks, but a cheerful "Don't mind me!" usually put them at rest. Tosh had often felt as if she had her own personal perception filter, so it wasn't any surprise. The rain got harder, cold and keeping her from wandering. The wind blew stronger, and Tosh steeled her attention. This probably wasn't the best plan, but it was the only one she had.

When the first wave crashed, she knew how and when they needed to avoid it. Same with the lightning strike that splintered the mast, and the next wave that got salt water up her nose, and when she thought ten minutes had passed, she opened the watch just before a broken piece of wood impaled her.

She was lying on deck, pelted by rain, her leg numb.

"What are you doing here, Miss Sato?" asked the patronizing blond crewman.

"Captain James!" She ignored him, waiting for Captain James to turn to her in surprise. "Turn left right this instant. Don't ask why, just do it."

And she must have been more commanding than she thought, or maybe perception filters could give you more of a presence instead of less, because he did. The wave hit the side but didn't rock the boat like it had. Tosh hoped she'd done these calculations right— if not, her fingers were on the watch.

Tosh spent at least twice as long as everyone else in that storm, possibly longer. She didn't know. The rain and cold kept her awake, trying to focus, making mistakes, going back again. She took the watch off her jacket so her arm didn't cramp and just lay there, salt water up her nose and soaked to the bone, even with all the water vanishing off her every thirteen minutes. They stared at her in awe and fear— she wondered if they thought it was an 'Oriental' thing, breaking her leg so she could have foreknowledge of the storm.

The rain lightened and Tosh found her eyes slipping closed. "Captain James..?"

"Yes, Miss Sato?"

"You can sail through this, can't you?"

"I've sailed through worse."

"Good…"

With that, she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

She woke up with Mr. Evans sitting at her side, in a warm bed that was certainly more comfortable than the decks.

"We made it, then."

He laughed. "Yes, Miss Sato, we did. All thanks to you. Was that—"

"Don't," she cut him off, "No, it wasn't. What I did, I'm the only one who could do it. All right?"

"All right." He nodded politely. Mr. Evans made it a point never to argue with a lady. "You, Miss Sato, are one of the bravest women it has ever been my pleasure to meet."

"I'm certainly braver than your sister," she mumbled.

"Yes, Miss Sato." He laughed. "Most people are braver than my sister!"

After Mr. Evans left, her watch was nowhere to be found. Tosh didn't find it in her to be disappointed. She mostly just wanted to sleep.

"Jet lag," she said idly as she pulled a pillow over her head.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"Pleased to meet you, Gwen Cooper," said Gerald Carter, head of Torchwood Three.

"Pleased to meet you," she said, shaking his hand. The Hub was smaller, no computers, and 'V.R.' was shot into a wall that wouldn't exist in a hundred years. A very bored Sherlock Holmes fan either worked here or had worked here. A palish, impressively mustachioed, gangly ginger nodded at her. He wore a suit, with a purple coat and gloves, and appeared to be doing paperwork.

"Doctor Steve Jacobs, at your service." He nodded politely.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Jacobs." Gwen smiled and turned to the fourth Torchwood agent.

"Karina Veldevsky," Jack said. Karina was sitting with her feet on the table, cleaning a gun. She wore military boots, tight pants, and a short-sleeved blouse. Her hair was short, dark, and curly; and her skintone was about halfway between olive and caramel.

"Hello," said Gwen, smiling.

"Hello," said Karina flatly, a slight Russian accent tinting her speech. "So. You're from the future."

"A hundred years." Gwen nodded.

"So we will still be around." Karina turned back to her gun.

"She shoots me a lot," said Jack.

"Twice."

"Seven times, on two separate occasions."

"You were being an ass."

"Excuse me, you're the ass."

Without looking, she aimed her newly re-assembled pistol at Jack's head. "Would you like to make it three times, Captain?"

"There'll be no shooting Jack today," said Gerald firmly.

"S'not loaded."

"I'd fire you if it was."

"Is she always like this?" Gwen asked as Karina put the gun down.

"No," said Jack, "sometimes she's worse."

"I should have expected that."

"So," said Gerald, "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked Jack to bring you today, Miss Cooper."

"Well… yes." He handed her an envelope. Her name was written on it. "This is Tosh's handwriting!" Gwen opened it excitedly.

Unfortunately, that was when a loud klaxon sounded. The contemporary Torchwood agents immediately dropped what they were doing and bolted for another room. Gwen stuffed the letter in her jacket pocket (Catherine had lent her clothes) and followed them. In that room, an odd sort of bronzey device with a bit that spun was glowing red. Karina lifted it and turned it around the room. Eventually the spinning bit settled on one direction to point in.

"And which way's that, then?" asked Gerald.

"Southeast," said Steve.

"What's that?" asked Gwen.

"Alien activity detector." Jack picked up another device. "The Rift jetsam isn't hot."

"Well, we'd better head for it…" Gerald paused. "Coming with us, Miss Cooper?"

"If you want me."

"Yes, Miss Cooper," said Karina. Jack nodded, and they all headed for the door. "Show us the Torchwood agent of the twenty-first century."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen The place where Jack was going to meet them turned out to be a bar. Professor Song sat in a corner and said he'd come over whenever they wanted him to witness the wedding, and Liz sat down at the bar itself with Ianto, ordered them both drinks, and stared at hers.

"So, you're the legendary Ianto Jones."

"Don't know about legendary." He wondered about Jack, now that there was a break in the action and he didn't have any thinking or throwing queens out of windows to do. What had happened to him, how he was now.

"Oh, it's hard to live up to you. Ianto Jones, the one he'll never forget." She half-smiled and downed her drink. "He's mentioned you a few times. Not only you, but you were special. And now I know why." She looked right at him. "He hadn't lost you completely yet."

"Oh," he said. What else was there to say? Jack had remembered him. Jack had held out hope, even after he was dead and buried, that he'd come back. Just like Ianto and Lisa. I did come back, though, he thought, but did that change anything? Did that change that, for a thousand years, Jack had felt just like Ianto had in the back of his mind? He'd moved on, he'd fallen in love and lived his life, but somewhere, in the part of his mind where he didn't look, Jack had hoped. And hope was the most painful thing of all. And now? Now what? Ianto was back, but as an intrusion, as a reopened old wound. He'd lost Lisa twice. And now Jack would lose him twice. "He's an imbecile, that's why. A goddamned sentimental imbecile." Ianto downed the drink (unfamiliar in taste, definitely heavy on alcohol) and continued. "That man is so stupid, I don't think he ever lets go of anything…"

"He's afraid." Liz ordered more drinks, tugging at her cloak.

"I know," said Ianto, staring at the bar, "but what can we do about it?" Liz stared into the distance.

"Nothing," she admitted. She raised her glass and smiled at Ianto. "A toast. To my Dorian and your Jack, whatever his name is."

"Let's hope he ends up happy." Ianto raised the glass to his lips, and then discovered that in the twenty-ninth century, a toast involved pouring your drink on the ground. He smiled sheepishly and did likewise.

"Let's hope so," Liz agreed. They silently drank and shared what it was to love Jack Harkness. To know that time would go by and you couldn't help him, not really, because you were a part of his problem, a part of his pain. To love Jack Harkness was to leave him in the end, to break his heart, and there was nothing you could do about it. You could only try to give him happy memories and to heal pieces of the past, and trust that he could make it.

"I can't believe he still remembers," Ianto whispered, staring into a glass he didn't think he should drink.

"Said he promised to remember you in a thousand years." Liz shrugged. "Got two centuries to go before he can even think about it."

"Sentimental imbecile," he repeated. "I don't want him to remember." Remembering meant pain and regret. Ianto knew remembering— how could he forget Lisa? But he did, sometimes. Because time. Because Jack. Because… well, because love. And Jack must have been through so much time and love by now that it was barely conceivable that in the thirty-first century he would remember that teaboy with the cyber-girlfriend in the basement, but Jack was capable of some amazing things, and Jack didn't know what was good for him.

"He smiles, you know. When he says your name."

"Oh. Does he?"

"Maybe…" Liz swirled her glass. "Maybe remembering's good for him."

"Have you lost anyone, Your Majesty?"

"Not the way you're asking."

"I have. Remembering…" He closed his eyes and could smell Canary Wharf. "…it's hell." He was putting Jack through hell, and while that was what he'd wanted once… it had faded. It was gone. He loved Jack Harkness, inexplicably and irrevocably, and he didn't regret it.

"Even the good times?"

The picnic. Lisa. "Especially the good times."

Liz opened her mouth to say something, then furrowed her face. "He should be here by now." Liz turned to the door. "It really, really shouldn't take him this long."

"No," Ianto agreed, "it shouldn't."

"If somebody hadn't knocked me out the window…"

"I know, I know, we'd be there right now." The door opened. They breathed a sigh of relief, except that it wasn't Jack.

It was Ella.

* * *

**(A/N: Sorry for the formatting glitch there! I fixed it.)**


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